


The Boy in the Attic.

by Bayyvon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Assistant!Benny, Cat!Ruby, Cinderella!Sam, Cinderella!verse, Dog!Kevin, Horse!Gabriel, Kitchen Boy!Castiel, M/M, Milligan!Lucifer, Milligan!Michael, Minor Character Death, Smith!Bobby, Smith!Ellen, Smith!Jo, prince!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayyvon/pseuds/Bayyvon





	The Boy in the Attic.

Sam Winchester's mother Mary died on a Thursday, from an unknown, and incurable illness. At least, that's what his father, John, had told him. Sam had never seen her face; not in person, anyway. He had, however, seen the large painting in the foyer. On many an occasion in his childhood, John would stumble upon little floppy haired Sam, talking to his mother's picture, and swinging his bare little feet, as if she were sitting next to him, drinking tea and laughing at his jokes. The picture remained in it's rightful spot above the fire place, until John had gotten remarried when Sam was eight-going-on-nine, and Sam's beautiful mother, with elegant blonde curls, soft green eyes, and beautiful features was replaced, by the dark haired, weary faced Lady Milligan, and her three sons. Michael, the eldest (only beating Sam by a mere month and a half,) is broad, with a crop of dark hair, and is the commander of the trio of brothers. Adam, age six, the middle child, is lean and lanky, with dirty blond hair, and is the quietest. And then, there was four year old Lucifer, the youngest Milligan son, the mischievous one, with the same dirty blond, choppy hair that Adam possessed. They coexisted with Sam and his father for a solid year, until John fell ill. At the ripe age of ten, against Lady Milligan's advice, Sam crawled into bed with his father, and held his hand while he passed.

After the passing of his father, Sam discovered the true intentions of Lady Milligan. She was after what was left of the estate, and had taken and blown Sam's inheritance since he had not been of legal age to obtain it. It was gone, now. At the age of 19, Sam had become a servant in his own home. His old bedroom became a closet for the Milligan children, who ran amuck and turned what had been a glorious estate, full of every child's dream set of animals, into a has-been home falling apart at it's seams.

The early morning light shines in through Sam's window, illuminating the room with deep purples, that fade into pinks, and hues of oranges and reds. Sam stirs at the light glaring in, but burrows deeper into the covers, a vain attempt at evading the morning and what the day had in store for him. He lays there for what seems like a while, but also seems like seconds, when the large brass church bell rings out across the sleepy little city, announcing the six o'clock marker. He huffs as he sits up, and stretches arms that become more defined every day; from the hauling of hay bales and sacks of feed and flour, from scrubbing the floors until you could see the soft smudges left behind the trail of the scraggly blonde cat, that Lucifer had poked and prodded until it had turned mean and spiteful. Sam called it Ruby, since it had no given name. It had been a stray, warped and turned into an average, world-hating feline. Opposite the cat was a stout ex-nanny dog, a thin, black furred Akita who was friendly, if given the right feeling from whomsoever approached him. Michael had insisted they call him Kevin. Sam had shrugged, and watched the dog bare his teeth at the warped cat. Kevin only liked Sam, and Adam, his favorites. The Winchester son swings his long legs over the edge of the too small bed, and raises slowly. He sheds his night shirt and pants, for an old, beige button down shirt, full of holes, and equally old and just as holey black slacks. Hazel eyes scrutinize his chestnut hair and it's unruliness, and he decides to tie it back into a low ponytail. He offers himself a smile, and heads downstairs to begin his chores. He starts the same way everyday, by letting Kevin and Ruby outside to fight or run off or whatever it was they did, and filling their little metal bowls. He then lights a fire in the small notch of a fire place in the far corner of the laundry room, and fills an old kettle, placing it on the silver post that was jammed between the two walls. He lets the sun warm his face as he hauls a large burlap sack full of grain towards the stables that held the sole remaining horse his father had bred for him, so that it would be able to withstand his bulk as he grew. He admires the animal with a fondness, with it's dark eyes and caramel fur.

"Eat up, Gabe. Got a long day ahead'v us."

The horse peers at him curiously, nuzzling his pocket.

"Calm down, I brought them. This won't be an everyday thing though. Gotta motivate you so-oof-" The horse knocks Sam's side with his head. "Hey!" The man rolls his eyes, patting the stubborn creature. "I don't hit you then ask for food do I?" He peers around, making sure no one was watching him, and he was sure it wasn't a problem, no one was up yet, except maybe Lucifer. (He liked to climb the stables and watch, and occasionally sabotage Sam's work.) He tugs a handful of small cubes of sugar from his pocket, and drops them into the bag before shifting the yellow grains around and dumping it into designated food trough that was tacked to the swinging door of the stable. The horse eats happily, dark tail swishing freely and Sam pauses briefly to feed the chattering hens that had followed him from outside the laundry room. Kevin trots up and lays in front of Gabriel's stall, basking in the slivers of sun that creep in through the cracks and gapes in the wood. Sam knows from experience that Ruby would be back when the sun as starting to go down, so he ties off the burlap with a length of twine, and heads back towards the house to prepare breakfast. The water is boiling for tea, and Sam carefully wraps his hand and removes the pot, dousing the small flames with a small bucket that sat near by. He prepares potato pancakes, Adam's favorite, and then a small plate of normal pancakes if the boys were planning on being difficult. He was trying to avoid controversy as best he could. Dealing with his Stepmother seemed a task in and of itself so he tried to get out of it at least one day out of seven.

_"Sam!"_ A feminine voice calls with the sharp ringing of a bell. Lady Milligan.

_"Sam!"_ A deeper, more impatient voice calls shortly afterwards, another bell making a pretty harmony with it's sister. Michael.

_"Oh Sammy!"_ There was Lucifer's familiar call, and a lower pitched bell threw the balance off and the noise was beginning to form a dull pressure behind Sam's hazel eyes.

Adam said nothing, just gave a single ring of the bell.

If Sam had to pick, he would deem Adam his favorite. He was least cruel, secretly acting out of compassion, but the punishments he gave Sam felt more like they were done out of obligation rather than sheer elitism. Sam was thankful. He eyed the marks on his arms, and wished they would go away. No matter how much bigger and bulkier he became, the Winchester was always treated as a weakling. Something to torture and use rather than treat as another living, breathing person.

The voices grew louder and Sam used a full voice (one would almost deem it commanding) to announce he was on his way with four trays balanced precariously on his arms. He heard the pitter-patter of Ruby's light steps, followed by the squeal of the mouse she held squirming between her jaws. She was a terrible thing. She clawed the boy's ankles and then rubbed him for attention all the way up the steps. He started to nudge Michael's door open when she plopped on his feet, and in his hurry to shake her off, he fumbled Michael's tray to the floor, where she unceremoniously dropped the live mouse on the tray and scampered off.

"I'm sorry, Michael, it wasn't my- I didn't mean-" He stammers as he tries to tidy up the mess.

By that point, the remaining occupants had emerged from their rooms and were accessing the scene. Adam cringed. Lucifer raised his eyebrows. Lady Milligan's frown was etched deeply into her features. Michael's hand was raised, pulling it back to strike, when a soft knock rang out from the foyer.

Dean Smith was 21 when his father decided to begin trying to find him a suitable partner (At the very least someone he _liked_ ). His father Robert was the type of man to give his children anything and everything under the sun, moon, stars and even heaven itself, regardless if it went against everything he believed in. This had started sometime after their mother Ellen died, Dean thinks. He would _not_ let his only son go unhappy. Mr. Smith had let his young, and only daughter, Joanna Beth, marry the kitchen boy, Castiel. Benny, his adviser, had just shaken his head, rolled his eyes and sought out the opinion of the Smith son. Dean had delighted in his sister's happiness, and gave them his blessing, but not without warning Castiel that if he ever got wind of him hurting Jo, he would not hesitate to break all 206 bones one at a time. Castiel had dismissed this quickly with wide, fearful blue eyes, and said _"No, not ever, Mr. Smith."_ To which the older of the two insisted upon in-formalities, and the use of his first name.

Dean was off on a business venture on his 23rd birthday, and whilst he was away, the southern adviser had confided in Jo that he thought it was high time Dean found someone. She had agreed, and casually slipped in a ploy to gather the city as "... ahem, a, uh, 'welcome home' celebration. He's been gone for months, Benny. The people worry about their precious Dean."

"I mean, it's almost utterly ridiculous! Dean's bound to find _someone_ he finds interesting, right?" The strong-willed blonde said as she assists Castiel with cleaning the kitchen, despite his protests.

"I s'pose. Think your ol' man'd go for it?" Benny muses, leaning heavily on his elbows.

"Yeah. He's ready for Dean to settle down. Even if Dean isn't so ready for it himself."

"We could gather'em t'night. Dean _is_ one for spontaneity, aft'rall." The dark haired man breaks out in a grin, and turns to leave the kitchen when Jo calls him back.

"Benny! Tell me what my father says, please!"

"Will do, Miss Beth!" His voice is fading with every word.

"Please call me Jo!" But he's already halfway up the staircase the fills the front hall.

Castiel says nothing, just smiles and continues to dry dishes while Jo scrubs them clean.

"Oh, hush!" A soft pink blooms on Jo's cheeks. "Benny does not like me, Castiel! Besides, I married you, didn't I?" Jo grumbles as she presses up on her toes to plant a kiss on Cas's jaw.

"I will continue to ponder that notion until my dying breath." He murmurs. "However," Castiel's smile grows wider. "I am glad to know that flustering you is still an accomplishment I can achieve since our marriage." A soft peck greets her temple.

"Shut it and dry, Novak." She nudges him with her hip, her cheeks growing a hotter shade of red than they had begun with.

"Mr. Smith!" Benny says, trying to regain his breath after his dramatic entrance into the king's study, where the man himself is hunching over his desk, his head snapping up upon the entry.

"Benny! Somethin' wrong?"

"No, no! Everythin's perfect. I think 'Ve solved Dean's problem!"

"Go on." Dark eyebrows knit together.

The Louisiana native explains his and Jo's collaborative plan quickly, stumbling excitedly over his own tongue, his hands dancing wildly. Dean had grown up under Benny's weary eye, and he may just live to see him married yet! "Whaddya think?"

"My God, Benny you're a genius!" Robert crows, pushing out of his seat and gripping the younger man. "A damn genius!" 

"Thank ya, Sir." Benny smiles. "How soon d'ya think we c'n spread the word?"

"Now, do it now!" The green eyed man nods quickly, a gesture that looks almost painful. "Get everyone we can spare. Jo needs to tell the ladies to get things ready-"

"Already on it, Sir!" The adviser calls as he hurries down the steps, almost contemplating taking the banister down, but deciding on two stairs at a time.

"Benny?" Jo questions from the doorway. "What's going -"

Before her question can be asked or answered, the man lifts her off her feet and plants a kiss on her head.  
"Tell the ladies to ready the hall, you an' Cas get ready, send whoever ya can spare to spread the word, I'll be back!"


End file.
